Hours had passed since William left the cave.
The world had stretched endlessly before him—winding paths, whispering winds, and the quiet hum of something unknown lurking beneath the surface of everything. His footsteps had grown steady, his breathing even, his mind… restless.
Then, abruptly, he stopped.
"…Wait," he muttered, his brows knitting together.
A pause.
"Bruh… I'm actually so dumb."
He dragged a hand down his face in disbelief.
"I didn't even ask him how to use these powers."
The realization hit harder than expected.
He turned slightly, glancing back toward where the cave would have been—miles behind him now. Hours of walking had placed an impossible distance between him and the only person who could answer his questions.
"Great," he exhaled. "Just great."
And then—
Someone stood in front of him.
William froze.
The air hadn't shifted. There had been no sound, no warning—just an instant presence, as if reality itself had folded to allow it.
The wizard.
William blinked, startled. "Hey—how did you just appear in front of me? And—why are you here? And—"
"And you wanted to ask me how to use your powers, right?"
The words cut him off mid-sentence.
William's mouth remained slightly open, the rest of his question dying before it could form.
For a moment, he simply stared.
"How…" he breathed.
The wizard's expression remained calm, almost indifferent.
"You're wondering how I read your thoughts," he said. "Simple. I am a Mindreaver."
There was a faint pause—deliberate.
"As for my level… that is something I will not disclose. Not yet."
William swallowed.
The weight behind those words wasn't just confidence—it was certainty.
"But I will leave after this," the wizard continued. "So listen carefully."
William nodded quickly. "Yeah—yes, please. Just tell me."
The wizard raised a hand slightly, as though organizing invisible concepts in the air.
"For your basic attack," he began, "you do not need to overthink it. Approach your target and attempt to strike—something as simple as a scratch."
William frowned slightly.
"If the target is within five meters," the wizard continued, "the attack will connect."
"…Even if I miss?"
"You will not miss," the wizard replied flatly. "The system ensures contact within range."
William blinked.
"However," the wizard added, "you do not possess a natural basic attack of your own. When you strike… you will imitate one."
"Imitate…?"
"Someone else's."
That… made sense.
Strangely.
"And for your main abilities," the wizard went on, "activation is even simpler."
William leaned forward slightly.
"Say the name of the ability… twice. In your mind."
Silence followed.
"That's it?" William asked.
"That is enough."
And just like that—
The wizard vanished.
Again.
No distortion. No warning.
Just absence.
—
William stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space.
"…Alright then," he muttered.
He flexed his fingers, glancing down at his hands.
"So… copy anything, right?"
A slow grin crept across his face.
His gaze drifted toward a nearby tree.
"…Let's try something."
He focused.
Tree.
A pause.
Tree.
—
The world shifted.
Or rather—
He did.
His body dissolved into something unfamiliar. His limbs stretched, rooted. His skin hardened into bark, rough and unmoving. Sensation dulled, replaced by a strange, silent awareness.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
Couldn't even breathe the way he once had.
He had become—
A tree.
For a long moment, there was nothing but stillness.
"…Okay," he thought, panic slowly creeping in. "This is not as cool as I imagined."
He tried to move.
Nothing.
Tried to speak.
Nothing.
A flicker of irritation rose.
"Great," his thoughts echoed internally. "Now how do I turn back?"
Silence answered him.
This time—
The wizard did not appear.
William steadied himself, forcing his mind to work.
"Think," he urged. "Think."
A pattern.
That was it.
He had said Tree twice… and transformed.
So—
"…What if…"
He focused again.
William.
A breath.
William.
—
The world snapped back.
Air rushed into his lungs.
His body returned—flesh, bone, movement—familiar and alive.
William stumbled slightly, catching himself as sensation flooded back.
"…No way."
He looked at his hands, turning them slowly, flexing his fingers.
"That's… insane."
A laugh escaped him—quiet, disbelieving.
For a moment, he simply stood there, amazed at what he had just done.
Then—
His expression hardened slightly.
Michael.
He still had to find him.
Without another word, William resumed walking—his pace steadier now, his mind sharper, his purpose clearer.
—
Elsewhere.
Far from him.
Michael and the girl finally reached their destination.
The building stood worn and neglected—an old structure that looked as though it had been forgotten by time itself. The paint peeled from the walls, the windows clouded with dust, and the air carried a faint scent of decay.
The girl pushed the door open.
It creaked.
Loudly.
Michael stepped inside.
The room resembled a broken office—scattered papers, worn furniture, and a dim light that barely held back the shadows. And at the center of it—
A man sat.
Still.
Watching.
"Brother," the girl said casually, stepping forward. "We've got another customer. He wants to take the First Test."
The man leaned back slightly, his face partially obscured.
"Alright," he said. "Is that him?"
"Yes," she replied. "That's him."
The man's gaze shifted fully to Michael.
"So," he said, voice calm but edged with something unreadable, "what kind of First Test do you want to take?"
Michael frowned.
"What do you mean—what kind?" he asked. "I don't understand."
The man exhaled lightly.
"Of course you don't," he muttered.
Then—
He began to explain.
—
"The First Test," he said, "is not written. It is not structured like anything you know."
His voice filled the room, steady and precise.
"It is a real-time survival and decision-based trial. Once you enter… it begins immediately."
Michael listened, his expression slowly tightening.
"You will be transported into a controlled environment," the man continued. "Isolated. Artificially generated. And tailored specifically for you."
A pause.
"It will not be random."
The words lingered.
"It will pressure you—physically, mentally, emotionally."
Michael's jaw tightened slightly.
"There is no preparation time," the man said. "No instructions beyond one thing—survive."
The air seemed heavier now.
"You may find yourself in ruins. In unstable terrain. In enclosed spaces. Or shifting environments where conditions change without warning."
Michael swallowed.
"The world itself may work against you."
Silence followed before the man continued.
"There are three core elements."
He raised a finger.
"First—Survival Pressure."
"You must stay alive. Resources will be limited. Threats will exist—creatures, traps, collapsing surroundings. And the longer you hesitate… the worse it becomes."
Another finger.
"Second—Decision Points."
"These are not questions. They are situations. Choices you must make without knowing the outcome."
His voice lowered slightly.
"Fight or avoid. Risk or retreat. Sacrifice or survive."
A third finger.
"Third—Internal Conflict."
Michael's gaze sharpened.
"You will be tested… not just in body, but in mind. Illusions. Fear. Moral dilemmas."
A pause.
"How you react… defines your result."
The room fell silent.
"The test ends in three ways," the man concluded. "You survive until time runs out. You discover a hidden completion condition. Or—"
His eyes darkened slightly.
"You fail."
Michael didn't need clarification.
—
"Fragments," the man continued after a moment, "are your reward."
He leaned forward slightly.
"They are not given for survival alone. They are earned."
Michael listened closely.
"Risk. Decisions. Efficiency. Stability. Adaptability."
Each word landed with weight.
"All of it is measured."
"And no two results are equal."
Michael's fingers curled slightly.
"Fragments also differ in type," the man added. "Combat yields offensive fragments. Strategy yields utility. Endurance yields rare ones."
A faint smile.
"And those fragments… determine your future powers."
Silence settled once more.
"There are no retries," he said. "No help. And no explanations once it begins."
Michael exhaled slowly.
"In simple terms," the man finished, "this test shows what you truly are… under pressure."
—
A beat passed.
Then the man leaned back.
"So," he said casually, "we can take you there. We can even train you."
His tone shifted—businesslike.
"Where's the money?"
Michael blinked.
"…Money?"
A brief pause.
"Oh—right," he said quickly. "I'll pay after I finish the test."
The man smiled.
But there was no warmth in it.
"No," he said simply. "We don't trust anyone."
Michael stiffened slightly.
"But," the man continued, "I have a deal."
Michael narrowed his eyes. "What deal?"
The man gestured to someone standing in the shadows—someone Michael hadn't even noticed until now.
"This man," he said, "will extract your soul."
The words were spoken as casually as one might discuss the weather.
Michael's breath hitched.
"After the test," the man went on, "you will pay us."
A pause.
"And if you don't…"
His smile widened—just slightly.
"He will consume it."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
Michael stood still, his mind racing.
Fear.
Doubt.
Risk.
All of it pressed down on him at once.
But beneath it—
Resolve.
After a long moment, he lifted his head.
"…Alright," he said.
"I'll do it."
The decision hung in the air—final.
The man nodded, satisfied.
"Good."
The room seemed to move again—subtly, as preparations began.
Because now—
There was no turning back.
Michael was about to step into the First Test.
—
And somewhere far away—
William walked forward, unaware of just how close everything was about to collide.